


Desparately Wanting

by bornforwar_archivist



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-31
Updated: 2006-12-31
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornforwar_archivist/pseuds/bornforwar_archivist
Summary: by Kathryn AdkinsBuffy calls Angel a year after the Hellmouth closes. He's concerned for her and insists that Spike let her know that he's alive. Revelations and meetings with TPTB. Lots of Spuffiness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Delenn, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Born For War](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Born_For_War), which closed in 2015. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in March 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Born For War collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bornforwar).
> 
> \--
> 
> Rated: PG-13 
> 
> Disclaimer: Joss and Mutant Enemy, etc. own BtVS. No infringement intended. 
> 
> Summary: Buffy calls Angel a year after the Hellmouth closes. He's concerned for her and insists that Spike let her know that he's alive. Revelations and meetings with TPTB. Lots of Spuffiness.

The phone rang for the sixth time. Harmony rolled her eyes and finally dropped her emory board on her cluttered desk.   
  
"Angel Investigations, I'm so sure this is really important," she said, answering the phone in the most annoyed, uninterested tone she could muster.   
  
"Uh... hi... this is Buffy Summers... I need to speak with Angel," the voice at the other end barely squeaked out.   
  
Another roll of the eyes. Buffy. Great, Harmony thought. And I took this job why?   
  
"Hi Buffy. It's Harmony. Let me go see if dark and moody can spare a second from his brooding," she quipped.   
  
Buffy twisted the phone cord as she waited for Angel to pick up the line. Harmony. Working for Angel. Now that was even more ridiculous than when she had found out Cordelia was his secretary. And she had found that hilarious.   
  
"Buffy?" It was Angel.   
  
"Hi... I, uh... can we get together and talk?"   
  
She didn't sound right. Something about her voice worried him. His eyes darted around the room before he returned his full attention to her call.   
  
"Uh, yeah," he said, with just a little too much hope in his voice. "Are you in town?"   
  
"Yeah. I'm... I'm here. Here I am. I'd rather if we met somewhere... maybe for coffee tonight?"   
  
"Sure," he answered. "Coffee. I'll watch." Angel had never been one for the pretense of humanity as Spike had. Food didn't interest him.   
  
"Okay, then. There's a little diner not too far from the Hyperion. It's called The Hole In The Wall diner. I'll meet you there at 8."   
  
She hung up quickly. No goodbye. No see ya later. Angel's mouth hung open, ready to say something when he heard the dial tone return to his phone.   
  
"Catching flies, Peaches?" asked the familiar blonde man standing in his doorway.   
  
Angel scowled, snapping his mouth shut.   
  
"Don't you ever knock?"   
  
Angel stood outside the Hole In The Wall diner and watched as the blonde- haired girl arranged and rearranged the condiments on the table. She looked more frail than she had when he'd last seen her. Right before the end of the world. Well, it was supposed to be the end of the world. And maybe it had been... for her. He felt a strange sense of guilt wash over him as he watched her through the window.   
  
"If you tell her, I'll kill you and anyone else who cares to flap his gums about me," he'd threatened.   
  
"Why is this such a big secret? Don't you think she wants to know? Deserves to know?" he'd countered.   
  
The blonde vamp brought his fists down angrily on Angel's desk. Angel felt like he was being staked by those angry, blue eyes.   
  
"I told you not to tell her. This isn't your cross to bear, Peaches. It's mine. Let me do what I feel is right and let it be none of your concern."   
  
Angel breathed deeply through his nose. No, he hadn't been followed. Nothing in the air. Nothing but the aroma of day-old fry grease and stale coffee. Buffy sure knew how to pick 'em, he thought, as he entered the nearly-empty diner.   
  
She was still busily rearranging bottles of salt, pepper, ketchup and mustard when he reached her booth. He felt something coil tightly in his chest when he saw her up close.   
  
"Buffy?"   
  
She smiled weakly at him. He took in the sight of her. Pale. Deathly pale. She hadn't even bothered to try to cover up the shadows under her eyes with makeup. She was wearing a grey, hooded sweatshirt that looked two sizes too big. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponitail, brunette roots peaking through the blonde.   
  
"Yeah. It's me," she told him, motioning for him to sit.   
  
A waitress stopped at the table asking if he wanted anything. He told her he was fine, thankyou, and watched as the woman refilled Buffy's nearly- empty coffee cup before leaving them. She took the sugar canister and poured a hefty amount into the cup before stirring it.   
  
"Buffy, why don't you let me get you something to eat," he offered, suddenly wanting to force-feed her big, greasy cheeseburgers and piles of fries.   
  
She shook her head and gazed into her cup. Cheeseburgers and fries might have sounded good at one time. But anything remotely solid just didn't settle with her anymore. Not since the near-apocalypse at the Hellmouth. Not since...   
  
"How's Dawn?" he suddenly asked.   
  
"Good. Dawn's good. She's, uh... living here. With Dad. Here in LA," she told him.   
  
"That's good. And the others?"   
  
The others... she tried to smile as she looked into her coffee cup like it held all the answers.   
  
"Um, good. Willow is in England. She's going to school...Oxford. Xander stayed in Sunnydale. Went back to Sunnydale. After."   
  
After. Yes. After his eye was gouged out by Caleb. After Anya died at the hand of the Turok Han. After the earth swallowed the town whole. After.   
  
"He... he wanted to make a difference. He said that he thought that it was God's plan for him. That he felt like he should be like Joseph and build. Rebuild," Buffy said uneasily.   
  
"Sounds like he found religion," Angel observed.   
  
"Mmm... more like religion found him. He's been rebuilding his life and the town. Piece by piece. He says it's God's will."   
  
Angel shuffled in his seat.   
  
"And how do you feel about that?" he asked her.   
  
She shrugged and then took a long sip of coffee. She was rifling through her pockets. He was surprised when she pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds. She pulled one out of the pack and smiled. He watched as she lit it with an all too familiar lighted. Spike's. He recognized it immediately. She took a quick drag to get it started and placed it in the ashtray.   
  
"Stress got you taking up bad habits?" Angel asked, concerned.   
  
She watched the smoke swirl from the cherry of the cigarette. She seemed almost mesmerized by it. She sat back in the booth, her back leaned against the window and her legs pulled up to her chest, feet resting on the seat in front of her.   
  
"No. I don't smoke. I just... it's comforting. The smell," she explained.   
  
This wasn't about him. This was about Spike. Angel felt the sharp pang of disappointment, immediately followed by guilt again. Of course, he'd known Spike had meant something to her. Something important.   
  
"Buffy... do you want to talk about--"   
  
"Giles went back to England," she told him, abruptly cutting him off. "He, uh... he sent me some things. Arranged for a salary, retroactive of course. Sent me a ticket to see him. Open. Maybe someday."   
  
"Are you living with your Dad, too?" he asked.   
  
She shook her head firmly.   
  
"A world of no. It was all I could do to convince him to take Dawn. Not that I don't want her with me... but I think that maybe a real mother- figure would be good for her. Marianne, my Dad's wife... she's got a 14 year-old daughter, Sarah. She's really a great Mom. I thought Dawn would be better off with them. With a family."   
  
"So, uh... what about you?" he asked cautiously. She seemed so fragile.   
  
"Me? I... I've been around."   
  
It was like pulling teeth to get any information out of her.   
  
"Around where, Buffy? Do you have a place to live?"   
  
She let out what she hoped would be a giggle. Instead, it caught in her throat and choked off a sob. He started to get up, to go comfort her, but she waved him off.   
  
"I'm okay, Angel. I'm okay. Uh, to live. That would be a big 10-4. I have a place to... live." The word was hard to get out. "I have a little apartment a few blocks from the beach. Not too far from Dawn. I didn't want to be too far from her. In case she, you know, needed me or something."   
  
She lived in LA. Angel was surprised. He figured she'd want to get as far away from Sunnydale and California as she could.   
  
"Buffy," he reached across the table and touched her hand. She stiffened under his touch, but didn't pull away. Cold, so cold. Like him. It was strangely comforting and jarring at the same time.   
  
"Buffy, why are you here? I mean, you know I'm always happy to see you... but there's something on your mind."   
  
She looked into the ashtray. The cigarette had burned down to nothing. She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she thought about it. Burned down to nothing. Nothing. Gone. Angel was trying to be patient, but he was having a hard time keeping a distance. It was obvious that she did not want his comfort. What did she want?   
  
"A part of me... it doesn't want to believe he's gone. It... it keeps telling me he's not. Not really."   
  
She was talking about Spike. Angel braced himself. One thing he hated was lying to her, especially seeing how vulnerable she was. He didn't say anything. Just waited for her to continue.   
  
"Every night... every night, I see him and I tell him I love him. And he tells me 'no you don't, but thanks for saying it.' And then..." her voice was barely a whisper. "Then I save him. I rip him out of there. Or, sometimes I take his place. Or I just stay with him. Every night I save him."   
  
Her lips were trembling as she brought the cup to them. She remembered how Spike had told her that he saved her. Every night he saved her. Now it was her turn.   
  
"Remember when I told you I was cookie dough?" she asked Angel. He smiled at the memory of her trying to explain herself to him.   
  
"Yeah, Buff," he said quietly. "I remember."   
  
"Yeah... well, the truth is, I was done. I was already done, Angel. But I wasn't for you. And I just didn't want to hurt you."   
  
Angel had known that even when she'd first told him. Even through the cookie dough analogy, he'd been hopeful, but could see her heart clearly. And it no longer belonged to him.   
  
She snapped her head up and suddenly looked him in the eyes.   
  
"I want to take you somewhere," she told him. "There's something I want you to see."   
  
She left a wad of bills on the table and then led him out the door.   
  
Angel pulled onto the curb of 1700 Beechtree Street. Buffy hadn't said a word on the way over, other than to direct him. The house was a large Victorian and had been converted into two apartments. She lived in on the lower level. He followed her up the drive and waited as she fumbled with her keys. She quietly opened the door and ushered him into the dark entryway.   
  
"Home sweet home," she told him, flipping on a light.   
  
Her little apartment was a little larger than she had let on, yet sparsely decorated.   
  
"I'll give you the nickel tour," she offered. "Living room." She walked him through the large living area. She had a denim sectional, a large coffee table and a wall unit housing what looked like a pretty nice stereo system. No television.   
  
"No TV?' he asked, thinking it odd since she had always been the first to reach for the remote when she was a teen.   
  
"No... I uh... I read a lot," she sheepishly told him. He was surprised.   
  
She walked over to the dining area.   
  
"I found this dining set at an antique store. It looks just like the one from my house... from Revello Drive. I had to have it," she told him.   
  
He had the feeling she never used it.   
  
"Kitchen," she said as she walked him through a large eat-in kitchen. She took him down a hall and pointed out the bedrooms and bathroom. "Lots of closet space," she offered, trying to sound somewhat cheery.   
  
She took him back to the kitchen. She reached for a doorknob to what he assumed was another closet, maybe even a pantry and he noticed as a breath hitched in her chest.   
  
"Watch your step. And make sure you duck." she instructed.   
  
It was a basement. Maybe this is where the washer and dryer are, he thought. But why would she want to show him that?   
  
She pulled the chain and turned on a single, bare light bulb. He gasped as he looked around dim room. His eyes swept from the cot up against the wall to the bookshelf housing various books. A heavy bag hung in the middle of the room with a crude drawing taped to it. He moved to take a closer look and heard a small giggle escape from her.   
  
"What is this?" he asked, recognizing the fangs and the hair as his own.   
  
"Spike drew that after he saw you kiss me... when you brought me the Gem of Amarra," she admitted with a smile.   
  
Angel went over to the bookshelf. He recognized the books. Descartes, Byron, Shakespeare, Machiavelli, Tennyson, Wordsworth. They belonged to Spike.   
  
"You surely don't mean that you read... these?" he asked.   
  
She was grinning. She looked proud of herself in a way he'd never seen before. She sat on the cot and closed her eyes.   
  
"I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars did wander darkling in the eternal space, rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth swung blind and blackening in the moonless air," she recited softly. "That's Byron, you know.   
  
He knew. He stood and watched her in wonder. Who was she? This wasn't the Buffy he'd loved so many years ago. That Buffy thought that all poetry began with Roses are Red. That Buffy thought that a "classic" was a John Hughes movie starring Molly Ringwald. Now, there she sat, reciting poetry from Spike's collection of classics. And she actually understood the meaning behind the verse she was reciting.   
  
"Buffy," he began only to be cut off by her again.   
  
"Do you know how much he loved me?" she suddenly asked.   
  
Angel didn't want to think about it. She went to the bookshelf and pulled out a plain, black leather-bound book. She flipped through the pages already knowing which one she would read.   
  
"When she smiles, I feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I feel as if God really could love me, forgive me for the gravity of sins I've committed. When she smiles, I feel a soul I shouldn't have. I would gladly drown in her tears. I'd burn in her effulgent smile. I'd die by her hand and have nothing but thanks for living long enough to know her."   
  
Buffy slammed the book shut and returned it to its place on the shelf. Angel didn't recognize the verse she'd quoted.   
  
"And who wrote that?" he asked her.   
  
"William Grieves. The night before he died for me."   
  
Angel continued to look around the room. She had managed to save Spike's boxful of memories. It was sitting on the top of the bookshelf next to a photo of the two of them together. He picked it up and took a closer look. It was on the back porch of her house on Revello drive. They were sitting, facing each other, with their foreheads pressed together. Their eyes were closed. Spike's hand was on her cheek. And they both looked so peaceful. He was immediately jealous. And then hit full-force with that nagging guilt he'd been feeling since she'd called.   
  
"Nice picture," he said, trying to sound casual.   
  
She nodded.   
  
"Dawn took it, " she told him. She gave it to me after..." Her voice faded. "After. She gave it to me after. And was apologizing to me about eavesdropping on a private moment. But I didn't care. I have never been so grateful for anything in all my life. That was the night before..."   
  
Before. Angel understood.   
  
"Buffy," he suddenly felt uneasy. "Is this some sort of..."   
  
She was staring at him. Daring him to say the word.   
  
"Shrine?"   
  
He saw her shift on the cot. She tried to pretend she hadn't heard him, picking at her sleeve.   
  
"Buffy?"   
  
"He didn't have anyone to... to remember him," she said firmly.   
  
"So you--"   
  
"So I promised I'd never forget."   
  
Angel's conscience was threatening to sell him out. Oh William, he thought, what have you done?   
  
"Buffy... are you," he paused for a moment, not sure how to ask about her mental state. "Are you... okay?"   
  
She stared at him blankly. Okay? Yeah. She was all about being okay. She'd only been mouring her twice-dead lover for a little over a year. She was full of okay.   
  
"I'm okay," she lied.   
  
"What do you do, Buffy? I mean, when you're not here."   
  
She shrugged again. She did plenty. She slept until three or four in the afternoon. Sometimes, she'd go and patrol. She took an online course from UCLA. English Lit. She saw Dawn a few times a week.   
  
"Buffy..."   
  
"I do plenty," she lied.   
  
"You just... don't look well," he sighed. "You're so pale. Just a little ways from the beach and you don't look like you've seen sunlight in--"   
  
"One year, three months, two days..." She looked at her watch. "Seven hours and twelve minutes."   
  
Angel froze. She was worse than he thought.   
  
"Buffy... have you... have you seen him? Since--"   
  
"I see him every night. We talk for hours. Hours and hours. I read to him," she told him with a dreamy smile. "He's so happy that I'm taking English Lit. Did I tell you about that?"   
  
"You're going to school?" Angel asked.   
  
"Oh, yes. He convinced me to take an online course at UCLA. I'm at the top of my class," she said proudly.   
  
Angel sat next to her. The cot creaked as he adjusted his weight on it. He was looking at his hands clasped in front of him. She was still picking at some invisible lint on her sleeve.   
  
"Does he... does he talk back to you?" he found himself asking.   
  
She looked troubled. Her brow furrowed and she gnawed on her lip.   
  
"Well, he's very tired, Angel. He went through a lot. He... he likes it when I talk. It comforts him."   
  
"What else, Buffy? I mean, you said you read to him. Do you just read?"   
  
She pulled her legs up onto the cot and sat indian-style. No, she didn't just read. Sometimes she just stared at him. Sometimes she just talked to him. Told him everything he ever wanted to hear.   
  
"I tell him how much I love him. And that he promised me. He promised me, Angel." There was a barely detectable quiver in her voice now.   
  
Angel slipped his arm loosely around her shoulders.   
  
"What did he promise you, Buffy?" he asked her, his voice quiet and full of concern.   
  
Her face began to crumple as anger and pain took over her features. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth as she choked back sobs.   
  
"He promised me he'd never..." She choked back the tears in her throat. He watched as she stood up and started pacing the room, fists balled angrily at her sides. And she suddenly fell to the floor, no longer to hold in her pain. "He promised he'd never leave me! Angel, he promised! He promised!" she keened.   
  
He was at her side, pulling her to him, trying to soothe her. Cursing the hard-headed vampire he'd had a hand in creating. Dammit, Spike. How could he keep this from her? She was falling apart without him.   
  
He helped her to the cot and pulled out his cell phone.   
  
"Listen, Buffy... I need to go make a call. I promise, I'll be right back down, okay?"   
  
She nodded before curling up on the cot.   
  
"Right back," she repeated.   
  
"Bloody Hell, Peaches," Spike complained. "What's the big emergency?"   
  
Angel had checked on Buffy before going back outside to wait for Spike. She had fallen asleep on the cot in the few brief moments it took for him to make the call.   
  
"Listen, I... I can't do this anymore," Angel told him.   
  
"Do what?" Spike asked, hesitation in his voice.   
  
"Come in here," Angel told him, practically pulling him through the front door.   
  
Spike froze when he smelled her. She was here. This was her house. Oh, God. He was going to kill Angel. He turned to leave only to be blocked by Angel.   
  
"She's sleeping. For now," Angel told him.   
  
"I told you that I didn't want her to know. I want her to move on. Live her life. Be a real, live girl," he angrily told his grand-sire.   
  
Angel understood what Spike wanted. He understood better than anyone that he wanted to make things right. Make things better. But they weren't. Better.   
  
"Spike, sit down. There are a few things you need to know," Angel told him.   
  
Spike shot a quick glance toward the front door.   
  
"Don't. Just don't. Sit and listen," Angel warned him.   
  
"Oh, Bloody Hell," he bitched, practically throwing himself down on the sofa. He couldn't help but scan the room.   
  
"No telly?" he asked suddenly.   
  
Angel smiled. No telly.   
  
"She, uh... reads. A lot," Angel told him.   
  
Spike broke into peals of disbelieving laughter.   
  
"You're serious?" he finally asked.   
  
"She reads all the time. And she told me that she talks to you."   
  
Spike's expression darkened.   
  
"I haven't--"   
  
"I know," Angel sighed. "She called today, Spike. Wanted me to meet her for coffee. She looks..."   
  
"Beautiful," Spike sighed.   
  
"Terrible," Angel corrected. "She's so thin and pale. She wouldn't eat. Just drank cup after cup of really sweet coffee."   
  
Spike looked concerned. That didn't sound like his Slayer.   
  
"Maybe she just wasn't hungry. Not like she needs to be force-fed cheeseburgers and fries, though," he quipped.   
  
Angel shook his head. Yes, it did.   
  
"She wanted me to come here with her," Angel admitted.   
  
Spike felt the small amount of bile rise in his throat. Oh, was that what this was about? Getting his blessing or whatever to move in on the bint?   
  
"I left to protect her. To let her live a normal life. You don't get to take that from her," he warned.   
  
"That's not why she wanted me to come here," Angel told him. "She sleeps all day, she's up most of the night. I made a crack about how it looks like she hasn't seen the sun in ages and she told me... she hasn't seen the sun since she last saw you. Right down to the minute."   
  
Spike felt his chest constrict. Christ, what was she doing?   
  
"She managed to save all of your books. Your journals, poetry. She recited Byron to me. Recited it, Spike. She's taking an online course in English Lit at UCLA. She's top of her class."   
  
That's my girl, he thought.   
  
"But that's it Spike... she... she has a shrine to you down there. I think that's where she's been sleeping. She's not well."   
  
He felt concern grip him. Not well?   
  
"What do you mean she's not well? Should we call the Bit?" He was worried.   
  
"I think she probably already knows. It's you, Spike. She's sick over you. You need to go to her. Stop this act of... nobility."   
  
Spike began to scoff and head for the door.   
  
"William," Angel called to him, stopping him as he placed his hand on the knob. "Just... see her. She's sleeping."   
  
He crossed his arms in front of his chest like a defiant child. He nodded in resolve and followed Angel to the basement door. She was still curled up on the cot. He felt tears stinging his eyes when he saw her. She was so pale. So thin. She looked dead.   
  
He stealthily made his way down the steps and took in his surroundings. His books. The heavy bag with the picture he drew of Angel still taped to it. The cot. Her body wrapped tightly into itself. She stirred and began crying softly in her sleep.   
  
"No! Won't leave you," she whimpered. "Never leave you. Never. Love you."   
  
It broke his heart to see her like this. She twitched and then let out a devastating cry.   
  
"Nooo!" she keened. "I love you! You have to come with me! You have to get out! No! Spike!"   
  
Without even thinking, he was at her side holding her, stroking her hair. Telling her it would be okay.   
  
"Buffy, pet. It's okay. Shhh..." he crooned to her. Her eyes fluttered open and a scared smile flashed across her face. Her hands trembled as she reached up and touched his cheek.   
  
"Are you... real?" she asked, confused now by what was fact and what was fantaasy.   
  
"I'm real, love. I'm here. I won't leave you again, never leave you," he promised.   
  
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She looked to the steps to see Angel leaving. It was real. He was there. She couldn't focus. She felt her head spinning with a thousand questions and a million I love yous.   
  
"Oh, God. You're real! You're real! I love you so much, I swear. I'm not lying! I love you.." She was choking on big sobs, choking for air.   
  
Buffy rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her mind and suss out just how she had ended up in her living room on the sofa. She looked around the dimly lit room but couldn't see Angel. Or Spike. Spike. Was that real? Was he really there? Oh, it seemed so real. She sat up and listened. She could hear male voices coming from the kitchen.   
  
"I had no idea," Spike told Angel regretfully.   
  
"Yeah. Neither did I. When she called, she didn't let on anything. And then I saw her. And it... I knew it was bad before any of this happened," Angel said with sadness in his voice.   
  
Spike rubbed his temples. He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that staying away from her was a gift. He wanted her to be able to live her life, get married, have a bunch of little Slayers. Why hadn't that happened?   
  
"You aren't going to leave her again, are you?" Angel asked, skeptical of Spike's true intentions.   
  
Spike shook his head. No. Not leaving. Not after what he'd witnessed.   
  
"She was saving you," Angel said quietly.   
  
Spike looked at him through puzzled eyes.   
  
"She told me that every night she saves you."   
  
Spike recognized the sentiment as his own. He remembered the pain and the emptiness he felt when she had died. It nearly crippled him. If he hadn't had Dawn, it probably would have killed him. But she had nobody. Everyone had been saved. Everyone had moved on with their lives. And their lives didn't depend on her. All she had was agonizing memories of what might have been.   
  
"Oh, God..."   
  
They both heard her at the same time. Spike rushed to her side wanting to assure her that he was really there. That he would never leave.   
  
"It's okay, kitten. Not going anywhere. Just like I promised," he soothed.   
  
She buried her head in his chest and sobbed quietly.   
  
"Never leave," she whispered through her tears.   
  
"Never," he promised.   
  
"Peaches," he called to Angel. "Why don't you make yourself useful and bring her some tea and something to eat. Some toast... or, what's that nasty cereal she likes? Apple Jacks. Let's get some food in her."   
  
"No, no food. I'm good," she told him.   
  
"I'll make some tea," Angel said, realizing their need to be alone.   
  
"Buffy, what's happened to--"   
  
She cut him off with a kiss. Just a quick, soft brush across his lips. But it sent shivers down his spine.   
  
"You are real. Oh, God, Spike," she said breathlessly. "You're really here and I should be so mad at you for not telling me. How? How long?"   
  
He felt ashamed. He'd unwittingly turned her into this frail, scared creature. A shadow of the Slayer she once was. And she might very well hate him when he told her just how long he'd been back.   
  
"Right after," he said in a near-whisper. "I made Angel promise. He promised he'd never tell. But now I see it was a mistake. I should have-- "   
  
"You're here now," she said. "That's all that matters. You're here now."   
  
"You should be angry. Don't you want to... punch me in the nose?" he joked.   
  
She was thoughtful. Yeah. She wanted to punch him in the nose. But she was too grateful that he was really there to push it. She grinned up at him, feeling truly happy for the first time in... over a year.   
  
"Yes. But I want to not punch you in the nose even more. That's pretty significant, don't you think?"   
  
Given their history, very. He looked at her as she curled up beside him on the sofa. Peaches was right. She wasn't well. But that was all going to change. He was going to make it his mission to stuff her full of cheeseburgers and make her go out in the sun. For him, she'd do it for him.   
  
"Tell me about the Bit," he prompted.   
  
She smiled. Dawn had done so well after the move to LA. She was actually acing most of her subjects in school. And she had a really nice boyfriend. Normal. She'd sent her application off to UCLA. She planned to major in ancient languages. Considering she was already fluent in Fyarl and Agathodemon, it wouldn't be hard.   
  
"She's made me so proud," she told him. "So smart. So beautiful."   
  
"She's like big sis, then," he smiled.   
  
"And what's this I hear about you taking English Lit?"   
  
She blushed as she smiled up at him.   
  
"I'm smart now, you know."   
  
"You've always been smart, kitten," he told her.   
  
"No. I'm book-smart now," she corrected.   
  
His Slayer. Book-smart. It was actually kind of cute. Something good had come of his absence.   
  
"What's this about me telling you to do it?" he asked cautiously.   
  
She shrugged her shoulders. He had told her. Long time before the opening of the Hellmouth. And she always remembered.   
  
"You said something to the effect of," she paused and than tried to imitate him. "Bloody Hell, Slayer. Is it neccessary for you to butcher the English language the same way you butcher demons?"   
  
He smiled at her bad impersonation. And at the memory. No, he'd never said to her "Go be a bloody English Lit major at UC SunnyDale." But she sussed out her own meaning from it.   
  
"And you like this, then?" he asked, amazed.   
  
"I recited Byron to Angel," she confessed with an impish grin. "I might as well have staked him by the shock and horror on his face."   
  
"I heard that," Angel called from the kitchen.   
  
"Your turn," she suddenly said.   
  
"My turn for what?"   
  
She furrowed her brow.   
  
"Well, I think I have been pretty forgiving and all. You know, with the not flipping out about you not telling me you were alive... or... not alive."   
  
"I see," he nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Right then. Saved the world, was rewarded by being dumped through a portal right into the arms of the Poofter there--"   
  
"I'm sitting right here, man. Could you be a little more considerate?" Angel whined from the dining room table.   
  
Spike sucked in a breath and shook his head. He looked like he was counting.   
  
"What are you doing?" Buffy asked him, clearly puzzled by this action.   
  
"Counting to ten. Helps calm me down to not rip his throat out and whatnot."   
  
Buffy giggled.   
  
"Yeah, he's been all 'Zen' and fixing motorcycles these days," Angel injected.   
  
"Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," Buffy and Spike corrected at the same time.   
  
Angel rolled his eyes at the sight of them. How had this happened? How had Spike become the one Buffy thought was worth dying for?   
  
"Besides, I think you're probably referring to the I Ching, Grasshopper," Buffy told him with a sly smile.   
  
Spike grinned, too.   
  
"Right. As I was saying," he continued, but not before shooting Angel a sideward warning glance, "Ah, portal. Poofter. Incorporeal. And then that Fred bird did some sort of hocus-pocus and I woke up in my own skin again."   
  
"But why didn't you tell me?" she asked in a voice that sounded so small.   
  
He sighed. He wanted her to be able to move on and live a normal life. Normal. Funny, that. What is normal anyhow? Is a world where vampires exist and Hell's mouth is in the basement of a high school normal? Is a 16 year old cheerleader being expected to rise to the occasion in a stake-off normal?   
  
"Because I'm not as smart as I thought I was, Pet?" he half-asked, half-stated.   
  
"You thought you were doing something good... something noble?" Buffy asked incredulously.   
  
"Well, yeah, Pet. When you put it that way, I suppose that's what it was meant to be," he glared back at her.   
  
She shook her head, stifling a giggle.   
  
"Since when the Hell have you ever been good or noble?"   
  
He looked at her, stung by her words for a moment. Then he saw the twinkle in her eyes. She was fighting a smile from making its way to her lips.   
  
"Could be plenty good, Love. Saved the soddin' world once, you know."   
  
Angel could definately feel the change in the air. Good grief, Charlie Brown. They were flirting. Right there under his nose, damned be it, they were flirting.   
  
"I think I'll just be go--"   
  
"Not so fast, Angel," Buffy snapped, stopping him in his tracks. Her eyes were still locked on her blonde vampire, but her arm had shot out to halt Angel.   
  
"I, uh... thought you two would want--"   
  
"You knew."   
  
He swallowed hard.   
  
"And you never said a word."   
  
"He didn't want--"   
  
"Why?"   
  
He wanted to be anywhere but there.   
  
"Because he didn't--"   
  
"Yeah, caught that one the first time around, Pinocchio. Try again."   
  
It was amazing how she had returned to herself with perfect clarity since Spike had returned. Angel, himself, couldn't deny the connection between them. Spike was her balm against the harsh elements of society. He was the one who could heal her. He was the one she loved.   
  
"Because I wanted to be right," he mumbled.   
  
Spike's eyes darted over to his grandsire.   
  
"Yeah. Okay. I said it. Through all my denial and all of my wanting to be the one to get the cookie in the end, I already knew that Buffy was more than half-baked. Wait..." Angel gathered his thoughts. "I knew that she was... ah, shit. I don't even eat. How could she be for me?"   
  
Spike looked amused.   
  
"Go on," he encouraged.   
  
"You know how I have to be right. Even if I don't like the outcome."   
  
Now it was Buffy's turn to look amused.   
  
"So... you get the girl. I get to be right. We all live happily ever after," Angel conceded with a forced smile.   
  
"And what do I get?" Buffy asked, coyly eyeing Spike.   
  
He leaned down and whispered something in her ear that even his grandsire couldn't hear. She blushed instantly.   
  
"And with that... I will see my way out of here," Angel announced. He stared at them a moment longer, his grandchilde and his ex. Pretty, they were. All sharp angles and sleek planes with their blonde heads touching.   
  
"Do you want to call the Bit and fill her in?" Spike asked Buffy, his eyes still locked on hers.   
  
She shooke her head slowly. "No. No calling anyone -- not right now."   
  
It was late, Spike noticed. It wouldn't be long before the sun started cutting its way through the sky. He wondered if he should go back to his room at the Hyperion or if he should just stay.   
  
Buffy, as if sensing what he was thinking, reached up and stroked his cheek gently.   
  
"Please... don't leave," she said. Her voice was shaky, afraid that he'd disappear again. She couldn't go through that pain again. She couldn't watch him walk away, wondering if he'd ever come back again.   
  
"Then, I'll stay," he decided.   
  
They sat in a comfortable silence neither of them wanting to say anything that would shatter the moment. Spike drank in all of her features, his eyes skimming her body starting at her head and ending at her toes. She was more fragile than he had ever seen her.   
  
"Tell me what happened," he requested softly. "After."   
  
She began worrying her lip, but agreed to tell him. Everything. He took her trembling hands into his own and squeezed them reassuringly.   
  
"Okay," she said, steeling herself for the year's worth of events he had missed. "I'll start with the last time I saw you," she told him, her eyes tearing up.   
  
He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. It was feather-soft, but enough to give her the strength to go on.   
  
"It's alright, Pet. Take your time. We have forever," he told her.   
  
"Do we?" she asked.   
  
He smiled. Of course, they did.   
  
"I didn't want to leave you," she told him. "When I told you I loved you, Spike... I meant it. I meant it with my heart, my soul... with everything I am. I never knew I had the capacity to love that much. Not until it was too late."   
  
"But it's not too late, Pet."   
  
"I know that, now. And I will never lie again... not to myself, not to the people I love. I wasted too much time living a lie. Being the Slayer was the hand I was dealt in life. There was nothing I could do to change that -- other than die." She looked down at their joined hands. "And even dying didn't change my calling. But it changed everything else I felt and everything I was."   
  
He could understand that. When Drusilla turned him, killed him and then brought him back as a vampire, he had changed. He had felt the change immediately. And when he was cast out of the portal and into the Hyperion after saving the world, he felt another change inside of him. It had nothing to do with the soul or with the choices he had made to become a do-gooder. It was a change that happens when a person dies. And the stark reality of the Hell to which he's returned.   
  
"When Willow brought me back, the second time I died... that was supposed to be my time. Spike, it wasn't the wrath of Satan or the Hellgods who opposed my return. They weren't entirely the reason for the apocalypse." Her voice dropped to a whisper, as if afraid that by saying it outloud, something horrible would happen. "It was the wrath of God."   
  
Her eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement when Spike didn't seem surprised.   
  
"Did- did you hear--"   
  
"Yes, Love. I heard you," he assured her.   
  
"You don't seem--"   
  
"You're rignt."   
  
She stopped, stunned and stared at him.   
  
"Wow."   
  
He grinned. He knew exactly what she was thinking. First time for everything and all that rot.   
  
"Tell me your take on it, Pet," he encouraged her.   
  
"Well, from what I've been able to piece together from my memories and from some research I've done--"   
  
He cut her off with an unexpected chuckle.   
  
"Hey, I'm, like, a scholar and stuff now!" she insisted. "Besides, lots of down time. Nothing to patrol. And I'm not much for the social scene."  
  
"Tell me again," he suddenly said. She smiled and reached up to wrap her arms around him. She pressed her lips to the smooth, alabaster skin just below his ear and then whispered, "I love you."   
  
He held her tightly, consumed by a happiness and peace he had never felt before in his life or unlife. She pulled back to look into his eyes and told him again.   
  
"I love you, Spike. I love you, William. I love you for who you were and for who you've become. I love you for your strength and for your passion. And I love you for your weaknesses, too. I love your sincerity and the way you never give up. I love how you kept me alive even when you thought I was dead. And I love how I kept you alive when I thought you were... before now."   
  
He leaned down and nuzzled her nose with his, trying to hold back the nancy-boy tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. His lips brushed softly over her cheek, her jaw and then found her parted lips. She slid her hands down his chest, letting them rest where his heart would be.   
  
"I can feel it beating," she whispered. "I- I know it's not... but I can feel how hard it tries. How much you try to live, how much you love. Before -- " she faltered, trying to bottle up the past. "Before, I was so scared. You're very intense. You don't do anything half-way. And it scared me that someone who was dead, who had existed the way that you had for such a long time, it scared me that you could feel these things I couldn't even give a name." Her lips were still touching his as she spoke. He took the opportunity to slip his cool, velvety tongue into her mouth. God, she'd missed this. He caressed her warm tongue with his, tasting what could only be described as heaven on earth. She tasted like honey and light. He couldn't help but deepen the kiss, probing her mouth, unable to get enough until she broke away, breathless.   
  
"Oh, right. The breathing thing," he remembered. "Tend to forget about that when I'm with you, Love. Sorry 'bout that."   
  
She smiled. It didn't matter. She felt like she'd been holding her breath since she lost him. Drowning in Spike was a welcome change.   
  
"It's okay." Her lips were still kiss-swollen, but he held back his desire to take them as his own again. He wanted to hear what had happened. He wanted to know what she'd sussed out about the co-existence of good and evil.   
  
"So, you're saying that God was the mastermind behind the big showdown at the Hellmouth?"   
  
"Absolutely," she nodded in agreeance. "God is the mastermind behind everything. And I'm beginning to realize that the love-hate relationship He has with the Devil, well... it mimcs the relationship we had. Good and Evil. We all thought that they couldn't co-exist. The truth is, they couldn't exist without each other."   
  
"Is that right, Pet?"   
  
"Absolutely. To paraphrase something I read on a bumper sticker, Shit Happens. So, if this... shit... this evil is happening, why? God is good. God is perfect. God can not do the wrong thing. Isn't that what we're taught in catechism? Isn't that what the bible tells us? God is the epitome of good."   
  
He was beginning to see her point. God does what is right. So, then, if God is doing all this white-hat crap, why is there evil in the world?   
  
"God created heaven and earth. God created Satan. So," she paused and grinned up at him. "Riddle me this, if God is the epitome of good, how can evil exist?"   
  
"And if evil didn't exist..."   
  
"There would be no distinction between good and evil. We'd be none the wiser. We'd be all 'vampires ate my baby?' Oh, well, that's all good. God willed it," she finished.   
  
"Right, then," he was beginning to understand her theory. "And we would be conditioned to believe that since God is good, vampires eating babies is good, as well."   
  
"Something like that, yeah. Good and evil have to exist together. It's kind of like God and the Devil have this little pact. The Devil doesn't throw at us anything more than we can ultimately handle, and God doesn't blow up the world to stop him."   
  
"The Hellmouth -- "   
  
"More than we could handle. And if you hadn't stopped it..."   
  
"God would have."   
  
She smiled. Now he was getting it.   
  
"You saved the world."   
  
"From God?" he asked.   
  
It was kind of funny in retrospect. The fact that the First was able to create so much chaos and destruction was due to the fact that God thought that they could handle it. And when they no longer could do that, He stepped in. Of course, He hadn't counted on Spike.   
  
"You took God by surprise," she explained. Her eyes were more alive than he had ever seen them. "You did something so selfless and so pure that even God couldn't deny that the evil that had once existed in you had died. You stopped God. If you hadn't made that sacrifice, there would be nothing. Time would have stopped and the universe would have exploded. And then molecule by molecule, it would have been rebuilt again."   
  
"And God, being older than dirt, really wasn't in the mood to start from scratch, is what you're saying. So, He got lucky when I stepped up to the plate."   
  
"Now you're getting it."   
  
He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes on hers.   
  
"When did you get so smart, Pet?"   
  
"While you were hiding from me."   
  
"I wasn't hiding," he insisted.   
  
Buffy crossed her arms in front of her chest and raised her eyebrow.   
  
He sighed, narrowing his eyes on hers, realizing she was right.   
  
"Okay, okay," he conceded. "Perhaps I was hiding from you. Somewhat."   
  
She sat watching him, waiting for an explanation that would actually make some sort of sense. What, he'd died, come back and decided to go the route of Angel? Right. Take the high road and all that ridiculous rot.   
  
"Pet," he began, taking her hands in his. "I heard about your cookie dough speech. And it made me realize that maybe I wasn't done baking, either."   
  
Now, that was funny. Comic relief. Exactly what Buffy needed at that point. She couldn't help but shake her head and laugh heartily at his proclamation. His brow furrowed in confusion.   
  
"You find that funny, yeah?"   
  
She was still laughing, tears streaming down her face as she stared at the vampire in front of her. He was more than 120 years old and not done baking? Now that was an excuse that was half-baked, she decided.   
  
"Bollocks," she told him.   
  
He looked at her with his eyes wide. His expression. Bollocks. Coming from her dainty lips. Would wonders never cease to amaze him?   
  
"Did you just--"   
  
"I most certainly did, you stubborn vampire," she told him. "Bollocks. Your shit-o-meter is just about topping out."   
  
"Think what you like, Pet, but it wasn't until I laid eyes on you that I realized that I wasn't nearly as done as I thought."   
  
She looked at him, her laughter subsiding when she saw just how serious he was.   
  
"Alright, then," she said, cocking her head to the side as she looked up at him. "Splainy?"   
  
Where to begin? Ah, with that prat William who was no more mature than Dawn when he was turned. Or perhaps with Angelus and the way that he literally beat him and Dru into submission, breaking them down before building them up into the killing machines they had been.   
  
"Pet, you know how much I love you. More than this unlife itself."   
  
She did know that.   
  
"Before I met you and your little friends, I never would have imagined myself becoming this man I am now. It wasn't the chip, Pet. You know that. And, yeah. I sought out the soul. The... the incident... what happened... almost happened..."   
  
She squeezed his hand gently, letting him know that it was okay. That wasn't his fault.   
  
"That's a moment best forgotten," she whispered.   
  
"No, Pet. That was a defining moment," he said earnestly. "That moment was my defining moment. It is the moment that I look back on and know that all decisions are my own."   
  
He dragged in a deep, unneccessary breath. That was one of the things she loved about him. There were so many things he had held onto from when he was human. Once, she thought they were silly things... the breathing. Eating. Smoking. Then she realized that they were the things that made him different. Made him special. Better.   
  
"I'm man enough to own up to my mistakes. And I'm man enough to know that it wasn't my demon who attacked you. It was William. It was the man. Pet, I'd shoved him down inside of me for as long as I've been dead. I never bothered to know him, to see him. He was weak. He was just some stupid git trying to prove he was something more. After I was turned, it was easy to shake him off, for the most part. Angelus made bloody well sure of that."   
  
She hated hearing about Angelus. She hated thinking about how inherently evil he was. The soul forced him away. The soul silenced the beast. But Spike had never needed that. And it shamed her to think that she had once thought that he was a monster without a soul. It was she who had been the monster.   
  
"Spi--"   
  
"Not finished quite yet, Love," he interrupted. He needed for her to understand that he'd kept his word. He'd promised that he'd never leave her. And he meant it.   
  
"I couldn't be with you. Not until I knew who I was," he told her. He stroked her hand with his thumb, silently trying to collect his thoughts. Trying to find the words to make her understand.   
  
"You said you loved me. And I wanted it to be true, Buffy. But a part of me knew the truth. The only way that you could wholly love me is if I accepted all facets of myself. And in order for that to happen, I had to get to know William again. And I had to force him on my demon, Pet. And the demon, he doesn't like to be stifled."   
  
He explained to her that he relized that there are differences in vampires. No matter what the Council of Wankers thought they knew. And that it all goes back to the person they were before they were turned.   
  
"Dru, she could never handle a soul. It would have killed her. She had been beaten and raped and broken when she was a human. It drove her batty. Truly, it did. She was only a child when Angelus turned her. He didn't save her from her life. He saw someone who was deeply troubled and knew immediately how lethal she could become in death. That's why he turned her. What he never counted on was the insanity becoming part of her demon. Deadly, she was. And continues to be. And as much as my demon wanted to choke the unlife out of her at times, it wasn't until recently that I realized that it was William who kept her alive. Soft-hearted, kittenish William. And that's what she saw when she turned me."   
  
Buffy could tell he'd put a lot of thought into his life. And his unlife. His hands were trembling as he shared with her his revelations.   
  
"Pet, I didn't want to come back to you as a broken man. I needed to meld the man and the beast. And I couldn't do that with you. It was something I could only do on my own. I hope you understand, Pet. I -- I had no idea that you were so bad off... I never would have thought--"  
  
"Shh," she told him, softly, placing her finger on his lips. "You couldn't have known. Nobody could have known. I never... you -- you don't know what you've got until it's gone... kind of cliche. And a really bad choice in 80s hair band ballads... but it's true."   
  
Time for the big admission, Buffy, she thought.   
  
"When I told you I loved you... before you... before. You were right. I didn't mean it. But I wanted to. I wanted to love you."   
  
He nodded. It wasn't a surprise.   
  
"But after..."   
  
Oh, God. After.   
  
"I left. Because you made me leave. And I watched my world as it was swallowed whole. You... you were... effulgent," she breathed.   
  
"Effulgent, was I?" he smirked.   
  
"Yeah. In more ways than just the obvious. You continued to burn in my heart and in my soul. The more I retreated into my shell, the brighter your memory burned in my mind. You were my world." Her lips were trembling. "The others... I couldn't talk to them. Xander... he was dealing with his own grief. He turned to the only glimmer of hope he had left and for him, that was God. He turned his back on everything he had ever known... his friends, his family. His memories of Anya. He buried them deep and he basically ran as far away from the unnatural as he could. The few times I've spoken to him, he's only talked about his ministry and his wife, Theresa. But he made me realize something," she said. "He made me realize that I didn't want to run away. I didn't want to forget. I didn't want to be that girl who would crawl into your crypt in the middle of the night and then run out on you with nothing but a vicious assault -- both verbal and physical. I didn't want to be that girl anymore. I wanted to reinvent myself."   
  
He certainly could understand that. Whereas he needed to go back to the basics, to the man. Buffy had to escape her role as the slayer. He wondered if she had.   
  
"The potentials--"   
  
"Many of them died in that final battle," she related with sadness. "I never even knew them. I could barely match up their names with their faces. Now... they're all branded into my memory. The ones who survived, they went to Cleveland with Andrew."   
  
"The boy?"   
  
Buffy smiled. Yeah, the boy.   
  
"Giles has more than earned an early retirement from the Council. But, he's insisted on staying involved. And he's taken Andrew under his wing. He stayed awhile in Cleveland before returning to headquarters in England. And Andrew, I know we were all so mean to him. We all treated him like some little nuisance. But, something all my alone time has afforded me was the ability to put some perspective on my life. And Andrew tries, Spike. He tries harder than just about anyone I've ever known. And Giles saw that in him, too. So, Giles kind of oversees things, but he trusts Andrew to act as watcher to the remaining potentials... or, rather, the new slayers."   
  
New? Slayers?   
  
"You mean you're no longer... are you not the slayer?"   
  
She had to let out a cynical chuckle at that notion. She would always be the slayer. There was no turning in her secret decoder ring and forgetting that.   
  
"I will always be a slayer. But now, it's kind of like, uh... like the military. You know. There's active duty and there are reservists. And there are those who are retired."   
  
"Which are you, Love?"   
  
She thought about it for a moment. Retired? No. That was a word that just didn't fit well in her vocabulary.   
  
"I guess I would be a reservist," she decided. "Yeah. I mean, I don't patrol. I haven't slain anything since... before. But, uh, if they really needed me... say, if they needed to call in the big guns, Faith and I would be there."   
  
"Speaking of Faith," he said with a raised eyebrow. She'd always been a touchy subject.   
  
"It's amazing what the love of an incredible man will do for even the most cynical of slayers," she laughed, only partially referring to Faith. It pertained to herself, as well. "She fell in love with Robin Wood."   
  
Spike was truly surprised.   
  
"I know, I know," Buffy grinned. "You should have seen her. She thought he was dead and she was just beyond reckoning. She totally flipped out. And then he opened his eyes and scared the shit out of her. He told her that he promised that he would never stop surprising her. From what I hear, he must be keeping his word. They got married about six months ago."   
  
"And what's become of Red and the chit she was all wonky over?"   
  
Buffy laughed and told him that her name was Kennedy. And that it was over.   
  
"Kennedy was too erratic for Willow. And, uh, Willow needed someone stable since she had such a hard time keeping with the stability after she went all Big Bad. She needed someone who could reign her in when she swam out too far. Uh, wow. I'm really glad you're sitting for this one," she said as she flashed him an excited smile. "She went back to England with Giles."   
  
Right. With the Watcher. Probably to involve herself in the coven she'd been privy to while she was there the first time.   
  
"So, he's keeping tabs on Red while she does the witchy, thing. Bully for her," he said, understanding Willow's powers better than most.   
  
"Uh, no... that's not exactly how it is," Buffy told him. "She's, uh... she's with Giles. You know? With. Uh, as in with Oz. Or with Tara. With Giles."   
  
She could see that he still wasn't getting it.   
  
"They're making with the moon-eyes and love you's, Spike."   
  
Well, color me speechless, he thought.   
  
"How the Hell did that come about?" he asked, not able to mask his surprise.   
  
"The verdict is still out on that one," she had to admit. "But, look at us. Anything's pretty much possible."   
  
He could understand that.   
  
"And what about the Niblet?" he asked. He had felt like such a prat for letting the poor girl believe he was gone. She was always the one who had seen past the monster and saw only the man. At least, until he fouled things up between them.   
  
"Dawn is wonderful. Mom," Buffy choked on the word. "Mom would have been so proud. She's a normal teenage girl who goes to school, makes decent grades, works weekends at the Gap. All that normal stuff I never got to do. I know she's been worried about me. But she's given me my space. She's never treated me like I was crazy or anything. She's been the buffer between me and Dad. Maybe being a mystical key has given her some insight that none of us have. Whatever it is, it works for her. She was... you know she loved you. And she was devastated when you..." the words slipped out of her mouth in a near-whisper, but then she brightly added "but now you're not. She's going to be so thrilled to see you! I know that there's a lot that she wanted to say to you. A lot of things she wishes she could take back, too."   
  
There was a lot he needed to tell her, too. Like how he understood that she hated him for what he had done to Buffy. And that he loved her for it. She was strong and she stood up to him, no matter how scared she might have been. She possessed that same incredible Summers strength as Buffy and Joyce. None of them took his shit and he had a tremendous amount of respect for all three of them. He'd always loved strong women. And his girls were the strongest in body, mind and soul.   
  
"You, uh... you mentioned Wood, Pet. I was wondering if... do you have an address for him?"   
  
Buffy's brow wrinkled. That was a new one. Spike wanted Robin's address?   
  
"Uh, yeah. He and Faith are in New York. He took a job as principal at one of the inner city schools. You know, wanting to make a difference and all that," she told him. He could see the confusion in her eyes. "Uh, why with the asking?"   
  
"Got something that belongs to him. I've had it boxed up since I got back... it means more to him that it ever could to me."   
  
Buffy was hit with the comprehension of just what he was talking about.   
  
"Your duster?"   
  
"Not mine, Pet," he said softly. "That duster belonged to his mum. To Nikki. The slayer. And I took her from him. It belongs rightfully with him. I understand what it means to lose someone you love... and what it means to keep every piece of her intact. Every piece you can get."   
  
Buffy understood that, too. When her mother died, she didn't want to lose a single molecule of her essence... her scent, her sound, the way she felt, the things she wore.   
  
"I think that he needs it. He needs to have it. And I need to give it to him. Uh, closure, Pet. We both need that in order to move forward with our lives."   
  
Closure, yes. She knew all about closure. She found closure when she mailed Angel the crucifix he had given to her when they had first met. She found closure when she saw Riley with his new wife. But she had never found closure with Spike. And now she knew why. She wasn't meant to move forward with her life. She was meant to wait for him. Sneaky Powers That Be, she thought. They knew that he hadn't turned to dust for good. They gave him a Mulligan... a do-over. And they watched from wherever they were as they both finished baking. They were never far, of that much she was sure. As much as she wanted to kick their glowy asses for all that they had taken, she wanted to wrap them up in a big, interdimensional hug for what they had given back to her. She was done. Done baking. She was a big, gooey Buffy cookie and Spike was the only one she wanted to eat her.   
  
She was worrying her lip, lost in her own thought when he kissed her forehead, snapping her back to reality.   
  
"Love you, Pet."   
  
She smiled, leaning her head against his chest as he stroked her hair. Her smile brightened and grew wider in realization of just what a gift she had been given. Sneaky Powers That Be, indeed! she realized. Death wasn't her gift. Her gift was eternal life.   
  
"Spike," she whispered, reluctantly pulling away to search his eyes.   
  
"What is it pet?"   
  
"Tell me you'll never die."   
  
He cocked his head to the side and eyed her precariously.   
  
"Uh, okay. Unless I'm staked, left out in the sun, decapitated or set on fire, I'll never die," he told her. "Now what's this all about."   
  
"I'll never die either," she grinned, shocking and confusing the blonde vampire whose eyes shone blue and wide. "I can't."   
  
Spike continued to stare at his green-eyed girl in wonder. Can't? Die?   
  
"Buffy, what are you--"   
  
"Oh, I'm not, like, you know, a vampire or anything," she assured him. "No, not that. Um, I kind of got a pardon of sorts. From the council. And then from the Powers."   
  
He wasn't following.   
  
"It... it all makes perfect sense now," she said as her smile broadened. Her hand fluttered to her mouth as she continued in a daze. "Oh, God. I thought they'd cursed me. But... they knew. Those sneaky, glowy little fuc--"   
  
"Knew what, Pet?" Spike interrupted, still not sure what she was telling them.   
  
"Those sneaky Powers," she sighed, still locked within her own revelations. He reached out and softly turned her chin so that he could see her eyes. She looked up at him and immediately looked ashamed.   
  
"Buffy, love... you're scaring me. What aren't you telling me?"   
  
She took in a fortifying breath. This was going to be hard. Really, really hard. And she knew that it would break his heart.   
  
"Do you..." She felt the tears stinging the backs of her eyelids. She blinked them back hard and then tried again. "Do you remember the movie Groundhog Day?"   
  
She wanted to play movie quiz? He never did quite understand all facets of his girl.   
  
"Pet--"   
  
"You know you remember it. Dawn made you watch it with us one night when it was on TBS. You kept making... shirty little comments about how ridiculous it was for that man to keep reliving the same day over and over," she reminded him.   
  
"You never did learn how to use that word... shirty," he grinned. He remembered the movie. Later that night, he'd confessed how he could relate to Phil Connors because every night... His face grew somber. "Every night I saved you. Tried to do something different. More clever. Quicker..."   
  
"Right."   
  
"Pet, please tell me where you're going with this because I'm beginning to think it's back 'round the twist... and that worries me." He couldn't hide the frantic tone in his voice.   
  
"No, no." She met his eyes and he could see the spark of life in her stronger than ever. There was none of that walking catatonia that he'd seen too many times with Dru. Buffy was there. And she was taking back her life at lightning speed.   
  
"The movie... remember how after awhile, it just became too much for him?" she asked. He didn't look like he was following. "Remember? He started trying to kill himself. Toaster in the bathtub?" Now he remembered. Slowly she pushed the sleeve of her sweatshirt up and turned her wrists so that he could see them. There was a smattering of spidery, white scars covering the skin of her small bones.   
  
He gently took her wrists into his cool hands and inspected them. She couldn't bear to look as his eyes filled with tears, big and glassy... unable to look away from the proof that she'd tried to end it all. Over and over again.   
  
"Buffy," he whispered, as his eyes spilled over. Cold tears streamed down his cheeks in guilt and attrition for the pain his omission had caused her. He never knew he'd had this kind of power over her. He always thought that it was she who had the power over him. "What have I done to you?" His eyes shot up to meet hers again.   
  
"Shh, baby," she soothed. His hands stayed on her wrists even as she moved to stroke his cheek. "I'm here. That's the point that I'm trying to make. I kept trying to end it all. God, all different ways... but I'd wake up and I'd still be here. Still be breathing and the wounds would be closed. And I couldn't figure it out. The scars would remain. Maybe to remind me that no matter how I tried, I wasn't going to leave this world."   
  
He was shaking. She could feel him dragging in ragged, unneccessary breaths. He was practically gulping for air.   
  
"And I demanded to see them. I had slit my wrists for probably the hundredth time and then just started yelling at them to show themselves. Told them they were cowards and that they were the real first evil. I thought I'd fallen asleep," she whispered. "And suddenly I was in this very dark place. Pitch black... except for a spotlight on me. It was blinding me. I remember squinting, my hand shading my eyes... and then there was this sound, like the soft hiss a balloon makes when you let the air out of it."   
  
Spike was trying to follow without interrupting her, but his mind was still trying to wrap around the many times she'd wanted to die because of him.   
  
"I started yelling at them again. They stole you from me. They took away my heart. My soul. My reason to be. They let me scream until I had no voice left. And then they whispered so I'd have to strain to hear."   
  
He could feel the sunrise fast approaching. Fortunately, her house was well shrouded. She had all of the windows covered with shades and curtains of heavy, dark fabric. And she didn't look like she could even think of sleeping until she told him everything.   
  
"Even in the silence, I had to listen hard," she told him. "They wanted to make sure that they had my full, undivided attention. And they did."  
  
"What did they tell you, Pet?" he asked softly as he released her wrists. She immediately drew the shirt sleeves back down over them and wadded up the excess material in her small hands.   
  
"They told me that I was ungrateful. Ungrateful! Can you believe the nerve?" she asked, her eyes just as astonished as the moment that the Powers had told her that she was given a gift and she didn't appreciate it. "They told me that all who participated in that final battle were greatly rewarded. And I practically spat at them. Or I would have if I could make them out as anything solid."   
  
She brought her legs up under her and leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees.   
  
"I mean, how was everyone rewarded? I just didn't get that. Anya had died. You had died." She shook her head and corrected herself. "I thought you had died. But, the others... the potentials who lost their lives before they'd even been given a chance? Xander's world was taken away from him. His eye..."   
  
"If there's one thing I've learned about those Powers blokes, it's not always immediately apparent what their intentions are. Like to do things in a roundabout way, they do."   
  
Yes. She was definately beginning to get that.   
  
"They told me that my reward was eternal life and eternal happiness. I guess I just missed the part about when all that would begin," she grinned.   
  
Just like the Powers to give a blessing that was also a curse. She gets to live forever. She gets to watch her friends and family die off one by one. She gets to watch as nations crumble; As volcanoes erupt; as oceans dry up, one by one, until there's nothing left but her. There had to be some sort of opt-out, he thought.   
  
"And what about when you're ready for it all to be over, Pet?" he asked carefully.   
  
"Wh-what do you mean?" she asked, not following him.   
  
"When it's all done, Pet. When everyone else is gone... then what?"   
  
That was a good question. A very good question. She tried to remember everything that the Powers had told her. Was there a safe word? Was there a secret code that she could use to let them know that it was all done? No. There was a key. A key, a key, a key... She turned the memory over in her mind. Dawn! Dawn was her way out!   
  
"Dawn," she told him. "Dawn is the way out. When it's time. She'll be my way out."   
  
"But that would mean--"   
  
"Goddamn Powers!" she suddenly yelled, jumping to her feet. Her fists were balled up at her sides as she shouted for them. "Show your glowy asses!" she shouted. "Come on! Show them! You owe us some explanations!"   
  
"Love, Buffy," he tried to soothe. "Please, Love. You need to calm--"   
  
And then they were both spiralling into darkness. Spike reached out to her and tried to grab her hands unsuccessfully. It seemed like hours as they spiralled deeper into an abyss. And then they landed with a soft thud, cloaked in complete darkness.   
  
"Bloody Hell!" She heard him mutter. She reached out until she found him.   
  
"Great," she sighed. "This again."   
  
"Alright," Buffy sighed, pulling herself to her feet. Spike was right behind her and he pulled her close to him so that they wouldn't be separated. "Enough with the darkness. Flip on the light and let's do this."   
  
More silence.   
  
"Pet, maybe if you were a little nicer?" Spike suggested. He heard her immediately scoff. Nicer? That was just too rich coming from him. Nicer?   
  
"Dammit! Show your glowy asses already! I need answers!" she demanded.   
  
"Buffy, sweetheart," Spike persisted. "Flies. Honey. Catch more. Are you following me, Love?"   
  
"NOW!!!!" she screamed.   
  
He about fell over as brilliant light flooded his eyes.   
  
"Bloody Hell! Give a bloke a break for trying to help!" he yelped as he was momentarily blinded by white light.   
  
"Miss Summers, as always, such a pleasure to be summonsed by you." The voice surrounded them in echoing brilliance. It carried the thick, cultured sound of someone who was well-educated. And it was multi-timbred as if more than one person was speaking in precise synchronicity with the others. Of course the bloody Powers were well-educated, he thought. Omnipotent and all that rot. The voice also sounded unimpressed if not slightly annoyed.   
  
"What is it now?" it asked.   
  
"What? You give me this immortality and tell me that Dawn's the key to everything. You, of course, leave out the fact that Spike is alive, er uh... undead... here. That he survived the Hellmouth. You forget to tell me that," Buffy accused. "You don't get to keep butting into my life and then leaving me with more questions than answers!"   
  
"And just why not, Miss Summers?" the voice asked, now sounding a bit amused.   
  
"Because it's not fair!" she shouted. Spike held back a chuckle. She looked like a child. Her fists were balled at her sides. She stood on her tippy toes and he was sure she'd start stomping her feet in fits of anger any moment.   
  
"Tah, Miss Summers," the voice called dismissively. Spike could imagine the big glowy hand that was brushing them off. "Life is not fair. Yet, there you are, on your third go-round. And now you have your vampire by your side, soul intact. Your sister is happy and healthy. Your friends have found peace and happiness in their own lives. You no longer have to fight the good fight each night. So, please do remind me what part of your life it is that isn't fair because I'm having a difficult time assaying it through your constant whines and shouts."   
  
Buffy crossed her arms across her chest. No way was that glowy son-of-a-bitch going to talk circles around her and then dismiss her.   
  
"Right, as I was thinking, sounds peachy to me," Spike offered in an attempt to calm down both the Slayer and the Powers.   
  
"Oh, spare me the intervention, William," the voice scolded lightly.   
  
"And what about when you're ready for it all to be over, Pet?" The voice was Spike's.   
  
"That is what you said to Miss Summers, isn't it, William?" The voice was back to being the ethereal mixture of male and female timbres that it was before.   
  
"Well, you have to admit, Ducks," Spike threw out nonchalantly. "It is a very legitimate question."   
  
Buffy was still in front of him. He held her waist tightly, her back still to him so that they could both face the voice together. Her arms were crossed over where his rested about her. So nice to see them as a unified force, the Powers smiled.   
  
"Yes, William. It is a legitimate question. And please, do not refer to me or my sister as 'Ducks.'"   
  
Sister? Huh, the Powers give.   
  
"Surely you know that we can not reveal to you your destiny. That would allow you to tamper with fate. And we certainly can not have any more of that."   
  
And the Powers taketh away.   
  
"The little incident with Miss Rosenberg and the resurrection spell... well, I will admit. That was quite unexpected. We truly did not expect her to pull that one off at all," the voice said sounding just a little bit chuffed with the outcome.   
  
"You would have come back, regardless of Miss Rosenberg's meddling. Your work in your world was not done. And even He now realizes that, shirty as He may have been at the time. He does realize that even sometimes He must relinquish a bit of that omniscience for the greater good. And that, by the way, is the correct usage of the word shirty, Miss Summers," the voice informed Buffy.   
  
Spike's brow shot up as he tried to suss out the 'He' to whom the Powers were referring.   
  
"Not G--"   
  
"Yes, Miss Summers. God," the voice concluded for her. "I must say, you certainly did surprise us when you figured it all out. My, my, my. Haven't you come a long way from the little girl who thought that the Turok Han was a disco singer from the 1970s!"   
  
Were they making fun of her? Buffy couldn't believe the nerve.   
  
"Alright, Miss Summers. Ask your questions. I can not guarantee that you will receive answers, but it certainly shall amuse us for the time being, yes?"   
  
She wanted to kick their glowy asses... ass? Was there one or two? She was trying to pin down where they were. It was. Amuse them! And why was Spike laughing? She pulled out of his embrace and whirled around to cast an angry glare his way.   
  
"I'm sorry, Pet," he managed between chuckles. "This is just unreal. Big room of nothing but white light and some sort of conjoined voice? You're not seeing any humor in this at all?"   
  
"NO!" she shouted.   
  
"They're right, Pet," he told her, looking into her angry eyes. His were soft and blue. "Can't get your knickers in a twist when you know bloody well that you'd try to tamper with any information they were willing to give you. You would have come looking for me had you known I'd survived. And maybe that wouldn't have given you the time you needed to heal."   
  
"HEAL?" Her eyes were wide and dangerous. "HEAL? Is that what I did by becoming some sort of bookish yet slightly insane hermit? Did I HEAL?"   
  
"Well, yeah. In a way. Maybe not the way that makes sense now. But it is apretty big universe. And there's more out there than just me and you. Other apocalypses to avert in other dimensions and all that rot. Just gave them a little time to decide what they should do, is all I'm saying. Plus, big meetings with the Big Guy who's nestled himself somewhere between the star nebulas? That's got to take some time, yeah?"  
  
"Too smart for his own good," he heard the voice mutter. He couldn't help but smile.   
  
"So, should we suffice it to say that Buffy's good as gold, her friends and family are on the right path to long and happy mortal lives and when the time comes, she'll be the first to know that it's done?" Spike asked.   
  
"To meet your lack of eloquence with that of my own: Yes," the voice conceded.   
  
"Right then." Spike reached for her hand and held it tightly. "Beam us up, Scotty."   
  
"Just one more thing, William," the voice called to them. "You've yet to discover your gift."   
  
Spike looked to Buffy and furrowed his brow. She shook her head indicating that she hadn't a clue what the Powers were talking about. No surprise there.   
  
"And what would that be, Glow Worm?" Spike grinned.   
  
A loud sigh was heard. "William, please. Enough with the pet names. They may be charming to your Slayer and other corporeal beings, but we really have no use for them here."   
  
Spike cleared his throat and nodded. "Uh, okay. My gift, you were saying?"   
  
And with that, they felt themselves being sucked back into their own dimension at lightning speed. They landed with a little more impact than they had the first time and he immediately heard Buffy scream.   
  
Her voice resounded in her ears as she realized that she and Spike had landed in the soft sand of El Porto State Beach with the bright sun shining down on them. She threw her body over Spike's as her screams continued. She was frantic. She could feel him shaking underneath her; shaking with... laughter?   
  
"Slayer, let me up," he told her as his laughter finally subsided.   
  
"Wh-what's going on? You're not..." Her eyes grew wide. She hadn't seen him in the sunlight since he stole the Ring of Amarra and attacked her on campus. "You're not crispy-critter. What the Hell is going on? Are you... are you..."   
  
"Dead as ever, love," he grinned. He was sitting on the beach, staring into the eyes of his beautiful girl with the sun beating down on them both. And he wasn't going up in smoke.   
  
"I don't understand," Buffy whispered.   
  
"Welcome to your new world, Daywalker."   
  
It was the voice of the Powers. She heard it. She started to ask him if he'd heard it, too, but the look on his face was all the answer she needed.   
  
"Oh my... Spike! You can... oh, God!" she cried as she wrapped her arms around him. She drew back and stared into his handsome face. "Wow, you really need a tan."   
  
"Hey, now, Slayer. Watch it!"   
  
He couldn't deny the fact that he was thrilled beyond belief. He could walk in the sun. He could spend his unlife with the woman he loved. The reward was greater than any risk he'd ever taken. He watched as a wicked smile crossed Buffy's delicate features.   
  
"I have an idea," she told him.   
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
  
An hour later, she and Dawn were sitting inside the Fandango Salon while Anita and Janelle worked their magic. She and Spike had left the beach with separate agendas promising to meet back at Buffy's house in three hours. He dropped her off at her Dad's house before continuing on to Angel Investigations to have a talk with Angel.   
  
Buffy could feel Dawn staring at her from her retro-styled salon chair.   
  
"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Buffy grinned.   
  
"Hmmm... where to start?" Dawn pondered sarcastically. "I know, how about the fact that it's daylight and you're in it. Or, ooh! I know! You're finally doing something about your hideous roots and headful of split ends. Or maybe it has something to do with the smile that's been plastered on your face since I opened the door at the house. And it's not that creepy 'I'm not all there' smile that you've had for the past year."   
  
Ancient key aside, Dawn's maturity level really hadn't advanced too greatly since the near-apocalypse in Sunnydale. She was still good for a snarky remark or a well-timed huff and pout combo. Of course, the snarkiness Buffy had always attributed to time spent with Spike. Now she couldn't help but grin thinking about how he'd taken on Dawn as his own when he thought that Buffy was dead. And he would have continued to have a hand in her upbringing had the resurrection never taken place. Buffy's smile grew even wider knowing that Spike would be part of their lives again. They were his family. And he was theirs.   
  
"What in the world is with you, Buffy?" Dawn continued to pry.   
  
"Keep it up and I won't take you to get your nails done," Buffy warned with a neatly waxed raised eyebrow.   
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
  
Spike couldn't conceal his glee as he dialed the number to the Hyperion.   
  
"Angel Investigations, we hope you're helpless."   
  
Hopeless, you bint, he thought. He wasn't nearly as agitated with Harmony's lack of phone skills as he normally was, though.   
  
"Put Peaches on, Harm," he instructed.   
  
"Blondie Bear? Is that you?" she squealed.   
  
"Harm!" He brought his voice down. She had an incredible way of bringing out the worst in him. "Just get Angel. Please."   
  
He waited while he was transferred. Need some decent hold music, he thought. Maybe a Pistols medley. Or something from the Misfits.   
  
"What is it, Spike?" Angel asked with that unmistakable tone of impatience and annoyance.   
  
"Why don't you pull back the curtain on your necro-tempered window and look out to the walkway," he suggested.   
  
Angel had no time for Spike's games.   
  
"Why? Will I see you as you burst into flames?"   
  
"Just throw back the bloody sash, you git!" Spike snapped.   
  
He saw the curtains move slowly across the pane. Angel stepped in front of the glass and looked down to the street. He saw Spike waving at him, a delirious smile nearly splitting his face horizontally. Without thinking, he waved back. It was less than a second later that Spike heard the phone hit the floor.   
  
"Holy fucking..." His grandsire let out a long string of profanity as he scrambled to pick the phone back up. "Get up here!" he demanded. "Get up here right now!!!!"   
  
Angel slammed down the phone and began pacing in front of his desk. Shanshued. That stupid ponce of a peroxide blonde had been Shanshued! It made sense! Vampire. Soul. Great sacrifice! Fuck! Why was Spike always stealing his thunder? First Dru. Then Buffy. Then he went out and got himself a soul. Fought the good fight. Slayed some demons. Fended off an apocalypse or two. Now he got the Shanshu.   
  
"It should have been me!!!" he roared. His shouts brought Wesley, followed by Gunn, Fred, Harmony and finally, Cordelia into his office.   
  
"Angel, what is it?" Cordy asked frantically. She ran to the vampire. He was shifting in and out of game face in his fit. How could he even begin to explain that, once again, his grand-childe had managed to steal away yet another reward for which he had worked so diligently? She slipped her arm around his waist and held him close.   
  
Spike stealthily made his way into the office.   
  
"He's freaking out, Spike. Do something," Fred pleaded.   
  
Angel started shaking his head. No. He didn't want that bleached moron anywhere near him. Hadn't he done enough?   
  
"Oh, Peaches. Cut the theatrics already. I haven't stolen your precious Shanshu. Wouldn't want it. Being human's for nancy boys like you, anyhow," he let Angel know.   
  
Angel stopped pacing and stared hard at Spike. He sniffed the air. Tried to capture a heartbeat. Nothing. Just as dead as he was the day he'd met him.   
  
"Then how? Did you find another gem? Is it a spell?" Angel sputtered.   
  
"You know," Spike began as he looked around the room at the slack-jawed stares he was receiving. "I think that this is best done in private if you lot don't mind."   
  
Angel nodded. "It's fine. Really."   
  
They filed out of his office one by one. Cordy stopped, her hand on the door knob, to question her friend one more time. "You're sure?"   
  
"Yeah. He, uh..."   
  
"No bloody Shanshu, Pet. Just a little thank you gift from the Powers That Be," Spike assured her.   
  
"It's okay, Cordy," Angel told her.   
  
She smiled weakly and shut the door behind her.   
  
"Am I going to need a drink for this? Or something wooden with a pointy end?" Angel asked, still a little leary about Spike's sudden recovery from a century-old sun affliction.   
  
"I could use a bit of the tipple," Spike grinned as he plopped down in one of the comfy chairs so that he could talk to Angel across his desk. He propped his boots up on the desk to have them knocked down by the brooding vamp on his way to his chair. He pulled a bottle of scotch and two glasses from his desk drawer and took to filling them. He pushed one across the desk to Spike and downed the other in one gulp.   
  
"I didn't steal your Shanshu, you ponce," Spike insisted.   
  
"Yeah," Angel said between swallows of his second glass of scotch. "I got that. So, what did you do?"   
  
Spike sighed and looked at his watch. He still had a few hours. May as well give him the full monty.   
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
  
"You're taking me shopping?" Dawn asked incredulously. "Okay. Who are you and what have you done with Buffy?"   
  
Buffy giggled as she plowed through the racks at Decades. She loved the vintage styles and knew that Spike would appreciate them as well.   
  
"Oh, just enjoy it and hush," she told her sister.   
  
"Buffy, this place is really expensive," Dawn whispered as she read the price tag on a pair of silver Luis Vuitton high-heeled sandals. She didn't even make that much money in a week working part-time at the Gap.   
  
"Oh, come on. It's not like I can't afford it. And when's the last time you saw me spend money on anything?" she shrugged. "I figured we could use a little retail therapy. Pick out something nice. Something... summery. Something that would look good on my back patio."   
  
Dawn shot her a confused smile.   
  
"I've got a little surprise waiting," she added before turning her attention back to the rack. She began shuffling through the dresses before finally stopping on a deep red confection she knew that Spike would love. It was a silken chemise with spaghetti straps. Almost looked like a fancy nighty. And it would look perfect with those overpriced Luis Vuitton sandals Dawn had pointed out.   
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
  
Spike was a nervous wreck as he paced back and forth on Buffy's back patio. After Angel had found out that he hadn't been passed over for the Shanshu, things had gone a little more smoothly. Granted, he was still sorely agitated at the Powers' favor of Spike. And he still wasn't sure that Spike was the one who deserved the cookie. He did, however, know William well enough to clearly see his heart. And his heart was bursting with Buffy.   
  
"Be good to her, William," he had said, shaking his grand-childe's hand while pulling him into a half-hug. Spike smirked at the recollection. Angel. Hugging him. That was too much. He wished Buffy could have been there. She would have really enjoyed that.   
  
He'd taken the time to stop at the store for steaks and a bottle of champagne. Bought the good stuff, too. It was going to be a special day. Even Buffy couldn't deny Dawn a glass for a toast that was a long time coming to them all. He'd packed a small bag and returned to Buffy's house, letting himself in with the key she had given him. He started the grill and then took a hot shower while it smoldered. He was humming "My Way" to himself as he tossed on a pair of faded blue jeans and a soft white t-shirt. He even traded in his manky combat boots for a pair of runners like the ones he'd seen Gunn sporting on most occasions.   
  
"No longer a creature of the night," he said outloud. Things were definately looking up.   
  
He chanced that Buffy would have something he could stomach in her CD collection. He began rifling through her entertainment armoire and was thrilled to find several Sex Pistols CDs in her eclectic collection. Correction, his Sex Pistols CDs. She'd saved them all. He popped one into the CD player and then went out to the back patio to put on the steaks.   
  
Buffy had insisted on stopping back by her father's house so that she and Dawn could put on their new clothes. Dawn was still prattling on about the expense. And then asking too many questions as to why it was so important to get so dressed up in the middle of the afternoon.   
  
"Just do it," Buffy had told her. "For me. It will make me happy."   
  
Dawn couldn't help but comply. She hadn't seen Buffy happy since Spike... she didn't even want to think about it. There were so many things she would have done differently. Like forgiven him.   
  
Buffy could barely contain her excitement as she and her sister entered her home. The front door had been left open. The storm door was unlocked. She caught a glimpse of Spike as he headed out the sliding glass doors to her patio. The first thing she noticed was that the house was flooded with light. Spike had taken the liberty of drawing back every curtain and blind. He must be beyond giddy, Buffy thought with a smile. She knew that she was. And she hadn't bothered with the sun by choice. Her stomach was suddenly fluttering in anticipation of Dawn's reaction.   
  
Dawn dropped their bags on the sofa and picked up the CD case that was sitting on the coffee table. Sex Pistols. Spike music. She set it back down and looked up at Buffy.   
  
"Why don't you go out to the patio," Buffy said softly. She could see Spike busying himself with the grill, turning steaks and poking coals. He looked incredible with the sun shining on him, all pastel colors and white-blonde hair. "I'll be out in just a moment."   
  
Dawn shrugged and started toward the sliding glass doors. She froze when she saw the sight in front of her. It couldn't be, could it? She froze in the doorway as Buffy grinned over her shoulder at the vampire in front of them.   
  
Dawn felt Buffy's arms wrap around her waist from behind and her chin settle on her shoulder.   
  
"Isn't he effulgent?" she whispered. Dawn nodded in shock.   
  
"Sp--Spike?"   
  
Buffy was glad that she was standing behind her sister. As soon as Spike's name escaped her lips, he shot her his biggest, brightest Cheshire Cat grin and Dawn's legs promptly buckled under her.   
  
"He's not dead, Buffy," she whispered shakily, grateful for her sister's strong arms being the only thing keeping her from hitting the ground. It just wouldn't do to ruin a perfectly good $500 chiffon sundress. And if the heels broke on the equally overpriced Manolo Blahnik cut-out pumps, she probably wouldn't want to be revived.   
  
"Actually," Spike told her, placing the serving tongs on the patio table. "I'm still quite dead."   
  
Buffy giggled as Dawn straightened her back. The shakiness had seemed to wear off and Dawn was taking tentative steps toward the vampire who had been her best friend, her protector, her father figure and her greatest fan. It only took a moment and she had flung herself into his arms, burying her head in his chest the way she had when she was 14.   
  
"You're still dead! And you're in the sun! And you're not gone! And you... you... why aren't you Spike Flambe right now?" she sobbed, a mixture of joy and remorse. She had treated him like something subterranean those last few months before the Hellmouth swallowed him whole. A world of regrets was ready to tumble from her mouth.   
  
"I'd say let's go inside and chat, but I'm kind of new to this whole sunlight not frying my brains thing, so humor a bloke and let's sit outside." He was hugging her close and stroking her hair. Probably had smeared make-up all over his new white shirt, but it was worth it to have the Little Bit in his arms again.   
  
Buffy walked out and sat at the patio table as Spike managed to pry Dawn's arms from around his waist. She had a grip like a vice and it wasn't an easy task, but it would be much easier to fill her in on the 15 months of his unlife if she was sitting. And if he was sitting.   
  
"I should have known that you were back. I should have known!" she told him as she ran her fingers under the rims of her eyes to remove the last traces of the watered down mascara and eyeliner. "Buffy was so far gone... she was starting to really scare me. And then today... it was like all was right with the world again."   
  
Spike took the seat next to her and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. She'd grown so much in the past year. What a beautiful girl his Niblet had become and he'd missed the transformation.   
  
"You took good care of big sis, Niblet. Did the best you could, yeah?"   
  
She nodded. "Buffy wasn't... well. And as much as I would have liked to push her into getting help, I knew that the best help I could give was to keep her condition away from everyone else. She missed you so much, Spike. She loves you so much," she told him. "I missed you, too," she added quietly. "I was wrong about you. I'm sorry."   
  
He reached for her hand and held it tightly. She hadn't been wrong about him. He knew that now. She should, too.   
  
"You weren't wrong, Bit," he told her. "I was a bad, rude man. But unfortunately for you and big sis, I had to get to that point in order to start making the right decisions. No chip or soul can tell me what's right and what's wrong. Vampire or not, I've always had free will. Just never chose to use it for good things."   
  
He and Buffy took turns telling her about his return from the amulet, his time as a ghost and the decision to keep his resurgence to the corporeal plane to himself.   
  
"Didn't realize that Buffy'd be so bad off without me," he admitted with regret.   
  
"She tried to kill herself," Dawn told him. "So many times. And the Powers wouldn't let her. You're why they wouldn't let her, aren't you?"   
  
"Partly, I gather," he agreed, not quite sure of the whole reason why. "The Powers tend to stick to the cryptic. They don't want us sitting around and trying to reconnoiter our whole existence too much. Best if we're kept in the dark."   
  
"Or, in your case, the light," Buffy couldn't help but interject.   
  
"Yeah," he said, returning her pensive gaze before turning back to Dawn. "I'm a daywalker now, Niblet. Got a pass and gave me a bit of the Blade mojo."   
  
Dawn couldn't believe he was back. He was dead. And he was no longer a creature of the night.   
  
"'Course, they probably have some big purpose for us all. Always do. Don't get to be immortal without a price. Don't get to be all son of Ra without them expecting the occasional favor or three," Spike cautioned her.   
  
"Well, whatever the case, I'm just glad you're back. We missed you so much! And if I didn't tell you before, I love you, Spike. Evil dead or not, you touched our lives in a way nobody had before and nobody has since," Dawn told him. She wrinkled her nose and then shook her head with a giggle. "Euw, and am I mushy much?"   
  
Spike went back to tend to the steaks as the Summers sisters watched him in the fading light.   
  
"He definately needs a tan," Dawn muttered to her sister.   
  
"Yeah, I said the same thing," Buffy smiled. "But tan or not, sunlight definately looks good on him."   
  
"So, are you two making with the smoochies again?"   
  
Spike's head shot up and looked back at the sisters. His hearing hadn't diminished any since he'd become Daywalker boy. Just like the Niblet to get straight to the point.   
  
"Not so much," Buffy admitted. "But we really haven't had a chance. Between meeting with the Powers and sorting out the past year or so, there really hasn't been much time for smoochies. But we'll get to that."   
  
Sensing Dawn's need for a demonstration, Spike made his way over to Buffy and bent down to capture her warm lips in his. It was really the first time they'd kissed since they found each other again. He took his time to explore her mouth not caring if Dawn's usual "Euw! Gross!" or "Ugh! Get a room!" interrupted. After about a minute of silence and Buffy's need for air, he pulled away and smiled.   
  
"Wow!" Dawn breathed, reminding them that she really was there. "That was awesome!"   
  
Spike turned and raised an eyebrow at her. Awesome?   
  
"Jeff's never kissed me that way," she grinned.   
  
"Jeff better not ever kiss you in any way," Spike admonished. "Who's Jeff?"   
  
"Uh, hello? Just because you decided to play dead for the past year doesn't mean that the world stopped turning. Not so much a kiddie here any more," Dawn informed him with just the right amount of snarkiness. Buffy shook her head and smiled. Dawn was definately Spike's creation. That mouth hadn't come from anyone in her family.   
  
"Yeah, she's been seeing Jeff for what now? About 8 months or so?" Buffy guessed.   
  
"Try one year next week. Guess I can excuse you for having your head up your a--"   
  
"Niblet!" Spike cut her off with a glare. "Kiddie or not, you're not too old to be taken across my knee or to have that filthy mouth washed out with soap."   
  
"Remind me why I'm happy your back?" she pseudo-pouted. It was nearly impossible to hide how thrilled she was that he was back.   
  
After dinner, Dawn had disappeared into the house to use the phone. She had blown off a date with Jeff to accompany her newly sane sister for a day of shopping and their impromptu barbeque featuring a very much undead vampire turned daywalker. Tha was going to be fun to explain. Jeff knew that Dawn wasn't like other girls, but she had yet to give him full disclosure. She wanted to avoid that for as long as she possibly could.   
  
Buffy curled up on the chaise lounge against her vampire. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so complete in her life. She snuggled into his chest, grateful for the delayed series of gifts from the Powers That Be.   
  
"So, um... where did you go today?" she asked. "While Dawn and I were out? What did you do?"   
  
Spike wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answer to that. If he went by her reaction to Angel the night before, he'd guess she'd find some humor in it. He hoped he was right.   
  
"I, uh..." He took in an unneeded breath. "I went to visit Peaches," he mumbled.   
  
She bit her lip as a smile spread across her face. He couldn't see her reaction, but she hadn't moved from his chest. He, however, had tensed up in anticipation of a lecture about what it means to be over a hundred years old and how he should be making with the maturity by now.   
  
"I rang him up from the sidewalk. Told him to take a gander out his window," he admitted, sounding a littled shamed by his earlier childishness.   
  
She tried to picture the look on Angel's face when he realized that Spike wasn't bursting into flames. She was sure it had been priceless.   
  
"Stupid git got all shirty with me about how I'd stolen his Shanshu," he continued.   
  
"Shan-what?" she asked, still not looking up at him.   
  
"Shanshu, Pet. Little pass from the Powers That Be that lets Pinocchio be a real boy again," he explained. "'Twas the Cheerleader that got him to calm down. And then he realized that I was just as dead as always. He was all Gem of Amarra! And bloody spell! Like he couldn't believe some formerly evil, soulless piece of shit like me could ever be looked kindly upon by the Powers."   
  
He sounded a little irritated and Buffy was quick to soothe his ruffled feathers. She tilted her head up to look at him. His eyes were a little wounded by his recollection of his run-in with her first vampire.   
  
"He was just jealous, Baby," she told him. "You know that, now, don't you? He thought that he still had a chance. And apparently I hadn't made it clear enough that he didn't. So the Powers did. He's just hurt. He'll get over it."   
  
He knew she was right. Part of him felt bad for his grandsire. And then that other part... well, that other part remembered the years of torture inflicted by same said grandsire. He remembered how he'd always been the one to get the girl. And that part of him couldn't help but beam with peckish pride that he'd been the one to keep the girl.   
  
"Did... did Angel make you stay away from me?" she asked quietly. "You know, before?"   
  
He shook his head slowly. No, he had been the one to make Angel promise to keep his secret.   
  
"No, Pet. Told you last night. I made him promise," he reminded her.   
  
"I... I know. I just wanted to know if I should be angry with him for some reason," she smiled, wanting nothing more than to please him.   
  
He couldn't help but chuckle a little. His girl was doubting the Poof. He couldn't have asked for anything more ironic.   
  
"No, Love. You shouldn't be angry with him," he told her. "If anything, you should be... you should be hopeful for him."   
  
Yes. Hopeful, he decided. He found himself hoping that his grandsire would be able to enjoy at least half the happiness as he was enjoying himself.   
  
"I think something's going on between him and the Cheerleader," he informed her.   
  
"Cordy?" Buffy asked, with a raised eyebrow. "And Angel?"   
  
She started giggling at the thought.   
  
"Not jealous now, are we Pet?" Spike asked cautiously.   
  
"Oh, God no. A world of no," she assured him. "Just a little stunned. I can't picture it. Angel's all... well, he's Angel. Grrr! And blah. And Cordy... she's all.. Rah! And 'let's go shopping!' I just... no. I can't really see it, is all."   
  
"You'd be surprised how much LA can make a prissy little valley girl grow up in a very short time," he told Buffy. "Throw in a star-crossed romance with a bloke who was half Brachen demon, the transferrance of that demon's mind-crippling visions to the girl at the time of his death, a ghosty named Dennis for a roommate and taking on the maternal responsibility for Darla when she died giving birth to Angel's son, Connor, and you've got a pretty jaded and much more mature Cordelia Chase -- not to mention the makings for a Sci-Fi Channel movie of the week."   
  
Buffy's jaw dropped. She had heard every word Spike had said, but the words that stood out the most were 'Angel's son Connor.'   
  
"Back up the train, Bub," she said, her eyes wide. "Did you just say that Angel has a son?"   
  
He was a litle confused. Hadn't Peaches told her?   
  
"He didn't tell you?" he asked, brows furrowed.   
  
She shook her head. "Not a word. Splainy, please?"   
  
"I wasn't around for that stage in his unlife, but apparently Darla returned from the undead and shagged him senseless. Not all that sure how dead seed could create a very live baby, but it happened. The birth killed her. But Connor, he was right as rain. Amazing, but true. The boy was stolen, though. Someone with his knickers in a twist over Angel, prat named Holtz. The boy was returned an angry teenager. You think the Bit pulled some crazy stunts? She's got nothing on this kid. Wanted his father dead, he did. In the dusty sense of the word."   
  
Buffy tried to let it all sink in. Angel was a Dad? And he had a teenage son? And he loved Cordelia? She supposed that she was in no position to cast aspersions. She was in love with a centuries old once-evil vampire who had been part of the Scourge of Europe. Stones, glass houses. Not happening here.   
  
"So, uh... where is Connor now?" she asked, curious about Angel's human progeny.   
  
"The giant git gave him up," Spike sighed. "Went all high and mighty and let the senior partners over at the Evil Empire do a little mindshift on everyone to make them forget the boy ever existed. The cheerleader remembered him, though. Soon as she came out of her coma, that is."  
  
Buffy snapped her head up with a new set of questions brewing in her mind.   
  
"That's another story to tell," Spike told her. "But the boy, he was given to a new family. Human. Angel, he, uh... he wanted him to live a normal life. Pretty sure he would have sold his soul to make it happen. For all practical purposes, he did. The whole mess with Wolfram and Hart. He managed to find a way out, though. Cordelia helped him out of it. Went back to the Hyperion and did some renovations to make it a little more vamp friendly. They've been clamoring around in a state of permanenet sexual tension since."   
  
"How... how did you find out about Connor?" she asked Spike. "I mean, since everyone supposedly forgot."   
  
"Right, uh, the cheerleader blabbed. Somehow, she missed out on the mindshift while she was in the coma. And Peaches, he only had me and her to talk to about it. So, I got filled in right quick on the whole thing and then sworn to secrecy that I wouldn't mention it to the others. Never said I wouldn't tell you, though," he grinned.   
  
Buffy smiled and looked up at him with a renewed hope. He wasn't sure what was going through her mind, but whatever it was made her absolutely glow.   
  
"Love? Something you want to share with me?" he asked, wondering what was making her smile so brightly.   
  
"Let's make a baby."   
  
  
  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
  
  
  
"Yeah, so it's been just a totally weird day," Dawn continued.   
  
"I'm just glad your sister is doing better," Jeff told her. "I know how worried you were. Whatever's brought her back to the land of the living is definitely of the good."   
  
Dawn giggled, recognizing Jeff's use of one of her phrases.   
  
"I agree," she smiled, her mind working overtime. "Hey, um... I have an idea. Why don't you come over Buffy's house. You can finally meet the real Buffy Summers instead of the weirded out hermit you've been exposed to on a few occasions. And you can meet Sp... William. William. Her... friend."   
  
"So, you're saying I'd get to see you tonight after all?" Jeff asked brightly.   
  
"Yeah," Dawn replied. "And if you're really good, maybe I'll even let you drive me home."   
  
"Okay... just give me ten minutes and I'll be at Buffy's," Jeff smiled, happy to be able to see his girl after all.   
  
Dawn popped her head out through French door to see Spike and Buffy in deep conversation on the chaise lounge.   
  
"Hey, I'm going to go wait for Jeff on the front porch," she told them. "I asked him to come by for a bit and then he can drive me home... I hope it's okay."   
  
"It's fine," Buffy smiled dreamily. "Let us know when he gets here. I'll make sure Spike doesn't scare him away."   
  
"Oh, and I, uh... told him Spike's name was William," she nervously informed them. "I didn't want to freak him out and have him think that you're in some kind of weird gang or something," she said apologetically to Spike.   
  
"It's okay, Bit," he assured her. "I can be William... for you."   
  
"Cool beans!" Dawn grinned. "Okay... I'll let you get back to your alone time now."   
  
She closed the door and went back into the house to freshen up before Jeff arrived.   
  
"You've met this prat?" Spike asked Buffy.   
  
"I have."   
  
"And he's on the level?" Spike continued, trying to find a reason to dislike the boy before he even met him.   
  
"Very much so," she told him. "He's smart and he's respectful. He has a little sister, Megan. I think Dawn said that she's three. One of those change-of-life babies. His parents have been married for 20 years. They were high school sweethearts. All that story-book crap that little girls dream of."   
  
"Is that what you dreamt of, Kitten?" he asked, cautiously.   
  
"Hmmm..." The Slayer was thoughtful. "Not so much. No. I was usually slaying the dragon in my fairy tales. Or taming the Big, Bad Wolf and making him a house pet. Mother Goose and Grimm had nothing on my twisted tales."   
  
"You just saying that to spare my delicate feelings, Slayer?" he asked, skeptically.   
  
"Nope," she smiled. "I've always been... different."   
  
He kissed her hair and held her tightly to him. He was glad she was different. He wouldn't have wanted her any other way.   
  
"I love you, Buffy."   
  
"I love you, too, Spike."   
  
They lay quietly in each other's arms for a moment before Buffy's brow furrowed.   
  
"So, uh... what I said earlier..."   
  
Spike looked up at the stars. She was asking for the impossible, didn't she know that?   
  
"When we were talking about the Shanshu and the Poof? Right... the Cheerleader's coma," he said, knowing damn well that wasn't at all what she was talking about.   
  
"Um... no," she sighed. "What's with the avoidy?"   
  
"Buffy, sweetheart..." He took in a deep, unneccessary breath. "You know I would love nothing more than making a baby with you... but vampire here. My little swimmers drowned a long time ago."   
  
"But Angel and Darla... it's possible," she insisted.   
  
"Perhaps it is," he conceded. "But how do we know that it won't cause another apocalypse?"   
  
"How do we know that it won't?" she challenged. "We could try making a baby. If it's meant to be, then the Powers will make it happen for us."   
  
"The trying part isn't a problem," he chuckled. "We can try as many times as you like. Two, three... ten times a day. I'm game."   
  
She swatted his chest playfully.   
  
"I just don't want you to get your hopes up, Kitten. I don't want you to be disappointed when it doesn't happen," he told her.   
  
She snuggled back into his chest. She knew he was right. But something told her that she wouldn't be disappointed. She felt it inside of her. There was some sort of spark. Some sort of promise niggled at the back of her mind.   
  
"We could always adopt," she hinted.   
  
"You sound like you want us to..." He looked down at her shining eyes. "Do you want to...?"   
  
His eyes narrowed on hers as his head cocked to the side questioningly.   
  
"Do you want to get married?" he said, his voice surprised, yet full of hope.   
  
"I thought you'd never ask," she grinned.   
  
Dawn was sitting on the porch when Jeff pulled into the driveway. She had made the decision. Tonight, she would take her chances. She would tell him about her past. She figured she could always back pedal if he seemed too freaked out. Chances are, he wouldn't believe her anyhow. Her life read like an HP Lovecraft novel. It was surreal beyond belief.   
  
"Wow!" Jeff breathed, catching her around the waist in a tight hug. "You look incredible!"   
  
She pulled back and pressed her lips against his. His mouth opened up to hers and their kiss deepened.   
  
"What brought that on?" he asked appreciatively.   
  
Dawn thought back to the kiss she witnessed between Buffy and Spike.   
  
"Nothing really," she lied. "I just missed you."   
  
That was true. Jeff was like nobody she had ever known. He was normal. She loved that. His family was loving and supportive. They had taken in Dawn as one of their own. He was always telling her how smart she was. He encouraged her to apply to UCLA with him even though she was sure she'd be rejected. He'd tutored her to get her up to speed on the subjects she was lacking in due to her calling on the Hellmouth. And he never asked questions about her past or made her feel stupid when she didn't know something that seemed obvious to most girls her age.   
  
"So, do I get to see Happy Buffy?" he asked lightly, holding the screen door open for her.   
  
"Yeah," she grinned. "Be prepared to be shocked! You think I look incredible? She's practically glowing! And it's all because of William."   
  
She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the back patio.   
  
"Hey guys," she called to the entwined pair.   
  
Their blonde heads popped up and Buffy was the first to rise from the chaise.   
  
"Hey, Jeff," she smiled at the boy.   
  
"Wow, Buffy... it's really good to see you doing... uh, better?" He wasn't sure what to say about Buffy's complete recovery. He'd only known her as depressed, frumpy Buffy. This girl was a golden goddess. Now he could see the resemblance between Dawn and her sister.   
  
Buffy reached down for Spike's hand and helped him to his feet.   
  
"Jeff, this is, uh... William," Dawn started as Spike looked up. He froze in shock when his eyes locked on Jeff's. "And William, this is..."   
  
"Connor?" Spike asked incredulously. He'd only seen pictures of the boy, but those brown eyes that stared back at him were those of his grandsire. It was undeniable.   
  
"Spike?" Jeff questioned, equally shocked.   
  
  
  
  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
  
  
  
Dawn's brow furrowed as her eyes darted from her boyfriend to Spike. Something was not right with this picture. Why had Spike called Jeff 'Connor'? And how did Jeff know Spike?   
  
"What's going on here?" she asked, her voice trembling.   
  
Jeff dropped his head and looked up at her sheepishly. The plan had been to lead a normal life with a normal girl and a normal family. That's what his father had wanted for him. The sacrifice had been great on Angel's part and he had done nothing to try to pull his son back into the fold even after the mindshift had been discovered by Cordelia and by Connor himself.   
  
He remembered going back to the Hyperion to find his father sitting at his desk, a glass of scotch in his hands.   
  
"I know who you are," he'd said softly.   
  
Angel had kept his back to the boy, staring out into the night sky through his window.   
  
"Then you know why I did what I did," Angel had responded evenly.   
  
"I..." Jeff hadn't known what to say. A lifetime of memories had flooded back, mingling with those that were never his own. He sighed and stared at the back of his father's head. He looked up into the window to see his own reflection, but not his father's. "I just wanted to thank you... Dad," he whispered.   
  
He never saw the tears that slid down Angel's cheeks. He never heard the man whisper you're welcome or that he loved him and missed him more than he could ever say. Jeff had said what he'd wanted to say. And then he slipped out of his father's office quietly.   
  
Cordelia had been standing just outside the door, tears welling up in her own eyes upon seeing the child she'd loved as her own as an infant and the man she'd taken as her own as an adult.   
  
"He loves you," she whispered. "We both do, Connor. Each in our own way, but both very much. We only wanted to give you what you deserved most... happiness. And something... normal."   
  
He had nodded, barely able to look his mother, his lover in the eye. She'd reached out to touch his cheek, barely brushing it with the back of her fingers.   
  
"You were such a good baby, Connor. And you're a good man," she'd told him. "Don't for one second think that we could ever forget you. You're in our hearts and at the very front of our minds every day. But you can't come back here again. It would kill him to see you. If any part of you loves him at all, go live the life he created for you. He sacrificed so much for you. Don't let it have been for nothing."   
  
Cordelia had watched as Connor left the Hyperion. The emotions swirled within her. She'd loved the boy as if he were her very own. And she had been the first to love him as an adult. Her reasons had seemed so clear at the time. She had wanted to give him something real. Instead, she had fulfilled a prophesy that could have destroyed them all. And she had hurt Angel all the way down to his soul.   
  
She had felt him while she was comatose. He had come in to read to her or talk to her. Sometimes he would just come in and sit with her. He'd hold her hand and stroke her knuckles with his thumb. And sometimes he'd lock the door and sit at her side sobbing for hours. She'd fought with everything she had to come back to him. He needed to know that she did love him and that she would wait forever for his curse to be reversed if she had to, the same way he waited achingly for her.   
  
She had let herself into his office, his back still to the door. She stood in the doorway just watching as his shoulders shook with the pain of a million tears. And then she made her decision. She went to him and knelt at his feet, taking his hands in hers. His eyes were closed as the tears continued to fall blindly down his cheeks, wetting his face and his shirt, dripping angrily from his nose and chin. She pulled him down into the crook of her neck and held him tightly.   
  
"I love you, Angel," she had told him for the first time. Her words only made him tremble even more. "I love you. And I'm not leaving you. I'll wait as long as it takes," she assured him.   
  
He had pulled her up into his lap and held her close, letting her heartbeat calm him. She had been there through it all. She had become a woman nobody in Sunnydale could ever have imagined as a result of the shallow cheerleader she had been.   
  
"I... I can't pull you into the dark with me, Cordy," he whispered. "No matter how much I like to deny it, I'm still a demon and you're a normal girl."   
  
She had laughed softly and pulled away to look into his eyes.   
  
"Hey Angel, part Brachen demon here, thanks to our good friend Doyle," she reminded him. "Haven't you figured it out yet? Not so much with the normal."   
  
She had kissed him softly, just pressing her lips gently to his. She pulled away slightly and leaned her forehead against his.   
  
"And I wouldn't have it any other way," she promised. "We were bound together by that child, Angel. And we were bound together by our secret, as well. But I give my heart to you freely. It's yours... consider it a gift and you know how I don't give gifts very often, so if you try to return it... I'll have to stake you," she told him, trying to lighten the moment.   
  
He had looked into her eyes and could have sworn that he saw his own reflection.   
  
"No staking," he told her. "I think I'd like to keep my gift. You just let me know when you want it back."   
  
She had smiled at him and was surprised at the genuine smile he'd given in return. She pinched him hard and he winced.   
  
"What was that for?" he yelped.   
  
She giggled and kissed his cheek.   
  
"You were just looking pretty damned happy, so I wanted to make sure you didn't make with the grr! and the argh!" she explained jokingly. "Now... go ahead and say it."   
  
He had looked at her with a puzzled expression. She rolled her eyes and sighed.   
  
"I, Cordelia, love you Angel," she told him. "Your turn."   
  
He tucked her hair behind her ear and looked into her eyes. She saw nothing but love in them and smiled expectantly.   
  
"And I, Angel, love you Cordelia," he vowed.   
  


To Be Continued


End file.
